I’ve heard it said before that people who read are also people who write. Basically, if you are a reader you are also someone who puts pen to paper and thoughts to scribble.
If this thought is correct than in my case, it is absolutely true. I Fell head over heels in love with stories from a very early stage, even before I could understand what all the scribbles, lines, and dark ink represented.
I come from a heritage of science based people. Individuals that focused on maps and medical articles and the moon. Reading was for work, for education, and for pleasure! Instilling this importance started with the Bible in the morning, the newspaper over breakfast, my grandfathers national geographic magazine over lunch and an Atlas lesson after playtime. That Atlas was a book that literally took up the size of a four place setting at a kitchen table.
My mother would read to us every single night. She would read Tom Sawyer, Curious George, Laura Ingles books, Mother Goose, The tale of Annabelle Hedgehoge, The Magicians Nephew, Lord of the Rings, Little Women, and Winnie the Pooh, just to name a few. It was some of my most favorite memories growing up.
Momma would sit on the old couch with some of us by her and others sprawled out on the floor. Normally one of us older stretched out sideways over the arms of the brown cloth rocker while Dad reclined in the blue lazy-boy.
Her voice steady and familiar but the story always new and exciting. It was better than a movie.
Learning to read the scribbles was more of a challenge. The first to learn always have a hard track to climb. We also have the privilege to teach the teacher how to transfer information to another.
It took me until second grade for everything with words to finally click but once it did I was off to the library like someone goes off to the races. My tears of hard work transformed into sparkling diamonds of speed. I devoured stories with my eyes faster than a toddler boy could eat candy.
My favorite stories were pages with a strong heroine. Despite it or maybe because of it they always found love and a passionate purpose.
In the middle of all this reading I was given a bright yellow leopard pad to journal during a summer camp. It started off silly and very dramatic, like every early teen girls diary. Messy, missed spelled words, and very long breathy sentences. Yet, as I kept writing it became my therapy. It became my special place and my space to think. It became a story. My story.
Reading made me a writer and writing literally transformed my life. Because of this this is why you get these blogs. I hope that this infuses a little passion for your own story because you are the heroine of one. Oh, I hope its a page turner! I hope you always find the energy to write an epic tale for yourself.
- Buy a Journal and a special pen
- order one of your favorite childhood books and read it again
One thought on “Readers make Writers”
Love this so much and a little jealous of your heritage and how it set you up to be the avid reader that you are love!